by Damon Novak
We told Danny how it went, and before we were done, he and Lilly were cuddled up on the long, white sofa, lookin’ like a couple from fuckin’ Yacht Fancy magazine. All they needed was a fluffy, white dog and a goddamned gold-leafed captain’s cap.
Nokosi was sittin’ right by where we’d tied up Garland. That dog was used to bein’ around folks in restraints and seemed to know the dude needed watchin’.
Garland had woken up a long time ago, but every time he tried to get our attention by yellin’, Nokosi would start barkin’ like a junkyard dog, just four inches from his face.
Garland would shut right up, a scowl on his face. I supposed he deserved an update on his girlfriend, so I made a mental note to remind myself to get around to that eventually.
“Guys,” said Danny. “Been studyin’ that GPS. It’s a marine model, but it has settings for land, too. Anyway, I see us settin’ ashore around Beaumont, Texas. Port Arthur, really. There’s a refinery there where they ship raw crude, so we can take the boat in as far as we can go. There’s bound to be some nice trucks in the employee parking lot at the refinery.”
“It’s Texas. Pickups everywhere. Sounds good. Where’s that take us through?” I asked.
Georgie looked at the map on the screen. “Not Dallas.”
“Nope,” said Danny. “I figure we grab one or two SUVs and hit Highway 96. That takes us in the right direction still, but away from Houston. Dumps us back onto Interstate 35 north of Dallas. I just hope it’s far enough away.”
“What’s the drive to Lebanon?” asked Lilly.
“About 13 to 15 hours, depending on what we run into,” said Danny. “Not bad. Feels like we’ll be home free once we hit terra firma.”
“Hope that don’t end up in a famous last words book,” I said.
“From your lips to God’s ears,” said Danny.
I looked at everyone. “We’re all pretty lucky, you know that?” I said.
“Why’s that?” asked Roxy, appearing at the top of the steps with Liam and Terry in tow.
“Look at all of you,” I said. “I could be out there all alone. Instead, I have Lilly and I found all of you. What’s more, you’re all good people.”
“Lower deck guests excluded,” said Georgina. “But yes, I feel lucky, despite them.”
“Let’s get drunk. We’re docked for the night.”
“I’m gettin’ into some night fishin’, young man,” said Danny. “You up for it?”
“Can I get drunk too?” Liam asked.
“I might give you a beer,” he said.
“Will that get me drunk?” asked the red-headed boy.
“If you chug it, maybe.”
“Deal!” said Liam.
Nobody objected. It was a new America.
Ω
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Danny, with Terry, Roxy, and Liam, hung out on the stern with two lines in the water. He’d taken several mesh bags of chum and hung ‘em in the water around the boat, and that was enough to get some baitfish close enough to use the cast net on.
One line was on the bottom, and he was freelining the other. Nothin’ happenin’ so far.
Garland was awake and starin’ down Nokosi. I was glad the dog freaked him out, but that didn’t stop him from bitchin’ the entire time, practically from the time his eyes cracked open.
Guess I couldn’t blame him, but it was his fault, as I see it. His pussy punch to my gut was ill-timed and ill-conceived. Mine was well-aimed and solid.
“Nokosi, come here,” I said.
The German Shepherd looked at Garland, then me, and obeyed. She laid down at my feet.
“How’s Billie Jo?” he asked, takin’ a break from his whinin’.
As the words left his lips, Georgina emerged from the salon and said, “She’s actually just waking up. A little groggy still, and in some pain, but she’s awake.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “She loopy, or makin’ sense?”
“Not saying much of anything yet,” said Georgie.
“Why ain’t she comin’ out?” asked Garland.
Georgie, to her credit, pulled a chair from under some bungee straps and unfolded it, placin’ it beside him. She sat. “How are you feeling? I heard the blow from inside the salon.”
“What saloon?” he asked. “There’s a saloon? I could use a drink.”
Georgie laughed, despite herself. “Not like that, but I understand some people call them saloons. It’s the social area of a yacht. Like the living room.”
“First time on a yacht, and I’m sittin’ on the deck cuffed to a rail,” he groaned.
I walked over and grabbed another chair, unfoldin’ it beside Georgie’s. I sat. “You didn’t need to follow us. That was your choice, bud.”
“Somebody with Billie Jo?” he asked.
“We put her in a bed in one of the crew cabins,” said Georgie. “She’s in and out. I check on her every fifteen minutes or so.”
“Why ain’t she out here?”
“She underwent a serious procedure,” said Georgie. “I had to clean up her left leg and suture it.”
He shifted, twistin’ his body and flexin’ his arms. “It ain’t broke, right?” he asked.
I threw a quick glance at Georgina, then back at him. “Dude, your goddamned gator ripped her leg off. So yeah, I guess you could say it’s broke.”
His eyes went wide. “Chester? He here?” he looked around.
“Well it’s good to see who you’re more worried about,” I said. “And fuck no. He’s real dead now. The bastard managed to swim up to the stern, even with that damned spiked harness you made. I unloaded a shotgun into it’s goddamned head. It’s on the bottom of the Gulf right now.”
“You prick!” he shouted
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shakin’ my head. I had to smile.
Just then the line at the rear of the boat started zingin’. I jumped up and ran back. Danny held a big deep-sea rig, the rod bent in a smooth arc down toward the water.
“What the hell you got there?” I asked.
“Gotta … be a shark or … maybe a grouper or somethin’!” grunted Danny.
“You need help?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know,” he said, pullin’ up with all his might. He reeled back down to the water and pulled up again.
The line started runnin’ again, and it sounded like that fish must’ve gotten another fifty yards from the boat.
Danny didn’t give up. He pulled back and reeled back down. The fish didn’t fight again, and that gave me hope. It was dead weight now.
“Yeah, CB. You’re up,” huffed Danny.
I went over and put both hands on the middle of the rod as he slid his hand off the thick, rubber, givin’ me room to move in. He stepped out, and I almost lost the damned thing.
“Jesus, Danny!” I said, leanin’ back as far as I could. “You made this shit look easy!”
“What is it?” asked Liam. “A dinosaur?”
“Feels like one!” I shouted, reelin’ down to the water again and pullin’ up.
“I’m gonna and run grab that fightin’ belt I got at the marina store!” said Danny. “Didn’t think to put the damned thing on!”
“That’s ‘cause you never catch shit!” I yelled back.
He ran off, but I felt like my arms would pull out of the sockets. “Hurry!” I called after him.
“You okay over there?” called Georgie.
“Not so much!” I answered.
Georgie got up and walked over to stand beside me. Liam sat there, his red hair blowin’ in his eyes, starin’ down at the water like fuckin’ Jaws was gonna come flyin’ out.
It was like pullin’ up the Titanic, I swear. Just as I was ready to fold in two, I felt Danny’s hands puttin’ the belt around my waist.
“Move the rod!” he said.
It was diggin’ into my midsection pretty good, but I managed to hold it out about four inches, which gave him room to slide the belt under it. Before he even had the Velcro strap
s secured, I had the rod in it, and now I could use my whole body instead of my arms.
“I bet it’s a freakin’ whale!” shouted Liam. “Hurry up! Pull it in!”
I shot a couple knives from my eyes at the kid, but I was makin’ headway now. Lowerin’ the rod tip as I reeled in, leanin’ back as far as I could to pull that beast up.
“I see it!” said Danny, standin’ to my left. Everybody was out there now, all gathered around me, and they were all goddamned screamin’, cheerin’ me on.
One last lean back, and I saw it, too.
A motherhunker of a red grouper if I’d ever seen one. Thing had to weigh close to 50 pounds.
“I got it, I got it. Move over,” said Danny, slidin’ past Liam and kneelin’ on the back step. He reached down and stuck both his hands in the fish’s open mouth, yankin’ it outta the water just in time for me to collapse onto my ass, tryin’ to catch my breath.
From behind us, we heard Garland scream. I think we all spun around at the same time.
“What the hell’s wrong now, Garland?” I asked, between breaths. I couldn’t see him because I was sittin’ on the swim step.
“Billie Jo!” he screamed, and I forced myself to my feet.
“What’s wrong with her?” Liam said, his eyes wide.
Billie Jo was just crawlin’ up the steps from the crew cabins, her mouth open and snarlin’, her stump leakin’ blood through the sutures.
She snapped her jaws together like a hungry gator, and I think we were all in a trance for a second, tryin’ to process what we were seein’.
We all knew what she had become, because she looked just like the masses of walkin’ dead out there. Where we’d fucked up bad was not really thinkin’ about the cause of her injury.
A zombiefied gator.
Of course, Billie Jo was gonna turn, no matter how good a job Georgie did fixin’ her leg; I saw that with Clay, after Tanner bit him. We could’ve saved Dr. Lake a lot of time and effort.
I tried to get over the stern rail, but my legs were still jelly from fightin’ the grouper.
Danny clearly didn’t want to lose our catch, ‘cause he yanked that fish with one big pull, hoistin’ it over the rail to the rear deck, where it flopped into poor Garland.
Two words I never thought I’d put together; poor and Garland.
“Get that fuckin’ sea monster away from me!” he screamed.
“That goddamned fish isn’t your biggest problem right now!” Lilly screamed, pullin’ out a .45 she’d taken to.
We were all damned lucky that girl had lost her leg, ‘cause she was movin’ pretty fast toward her partner in crime, just pullin’ herself forward with her hands, pushin’ with her one good leg and her bloody stump.
“Don’t let her bite me!” Garland screamed.
She was now about a foot from his legs, so Garland did his best to twist his body sideways and tuck them beneath him. “Hurry!”
She was gettin’ awful close. It was a movie I could watch all day, so long as it wasn’t happenin’ to anyone I cared about.
It wasn’t.
“I’m sorry I didn’t close the door!” said Georgie. “I thought if she woke up and called out or something –”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Danny. “Lilly, what you waitin’ for? Kill her already, baby.”
She looked back at Liam and shook her head.
Georgie went to the boy and took his head, pulling his face against her stomach. She nodded hurriedly as he struggled to pull away and witness the execution.
Georgie held her own. Terry gawked, open-mouthed, at the entire scene. His face was white as a sheet.
Lilly sidestepped around Garland. Just as Billie Jo’s reanimated corpse reached out and dragged her dead fingers across Garland’s, knee, him screamin’ like a college co-ed in a slasher film, Lilly pressed the barrel against her forehead and fired.
As the first splatter of blackened brain tissue hit the deck, Billie Jo’s off-kilter body flopped sideways, and Lilly stood over her, firin’ two more shots between her eyes as the black juice ran in dark rivers onto the gleamin’ white deck around her head.
She stared at the dead girl for a moment or two, then turned around, nodding. “Let him go, Georgina. Liam, don’t look at her.”
“I saw my mom a lot, and she was just like her!” said Liam. “I’m not a damned baby, so stop treating me like one!”
He ran past the huge grouper that was losing some of its steam, skirted past Lilly, and jumped clean over the dead zombie. When he ran into the salon, I knew what was up.
“Xbox cures the worst ills for a kid that age,” I said. “Shit. Thanks, sis.”
My heart was startin’ to slow, but it was still beatin’ twice as hard as what it was in the middle of my fight with the grouper.
“There’s some good news, some bad news and some more good news right there,” said Danny.
The sun was sinkin’ low on the horizon now, and I took a look at my watch. It was 8:40. Danny saw me look and nodded before he finished talkin’. We’d both had a little beer buzz goin’ on before the bullshit started. I dare say we were both stone cold sober then.
That would not stand.
“Good news is we got about 50 pounds of good-eatin’ red grouper fish,” said Danny. “The bad news is, we now know a zombie gator can turn a person into one of those things, which means anything that can get infected probably can, too.”
“What’s the other good news?” asked Terry, who had pressed himself into one of the conforming bench seats on the port side of the Dreamline Yacht.
“The second bit of good news is this didn’t happen when we were all asleep.”
Everyone nodded. Even Garland.
“What are you gonna do with her?” he asked. “Give her a proper burial?”
I ignored him and nodded to Danny. Old friends like us don’t need words sometimes.
We both moved toward the dead girl and stood there, watchin’ the black sludge oozin’ from her head wounds.
Georgie came up behind us and looked down. “That blood changed fast. It was bright red while I was working on her.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me. You don’t need her for anything, do you?” I asked.
Georgina shook her head.
“Ready bud?” I asked, turnin’ to Danny.
He sighed. “Let’s do it.”
We picked her up and hoisted her unceremoniously over the side, and she sank into the Gulf of Mexico like a stone.
When I thought about that later, it made sense. After all, there wasn’t any goddamned air in her dead-ass lungs.
Ω
Magi Silver Bolt
Henomawi Indian Reservation
He had not wanted his precious Dancing Rain to leave, but she had insisted she must help those she could. She was an excellent runner, with amazing endurance, and the skinwalkers were slow; feeble-footed creatures.
They have numbers. They can surprise you.
The words shattered his attempts to rationalize the fact that he had not insisted she stay with him.
When Anjeni Dancing Rain wanted something, she was a master manipulator. He could never be angry with her when she used her talents on him.
She’ll be fine. She’s smart.
Magi looked back at the words he had scrawled. The translation had been easier than Magi had expected, and the information contained within the short passage was very valuable.
It had the potential to save the lives of the rest of his people.
It was a recipe of sorts, and there could be no time wasted in testing it. Any risk would be worth the reward if this potentially powerful compound worked.
Magi’s home was simple; it was a traditional, adobe-style structure, though more modern than the older clay and straw structures built by his people.
Standing at the window, he parted the blinds to peer out. On his front lawn were four of the monsters, who would move toward one another, cluster for a moment, then spread out again, only to rep
eat it a few moments later.
Silver Bolt went into the kitchen and grabbed a chair. Placing it by the window again, he got a note pad and a pencil, then sat down. He parted the blinds enough to see out without making it obvious. Now his hands were free to write down his observations.
Some of the single-minded creatures on his lawn were not from the reservation, but others he recognized. If he were to capture one of them, it would have to be a stranger, for what he had to do, he could not do to the body of a past friend or acquaintance.
Studying them for a time, Silver Bolt thought he finally understood. He wrote:
If they see a shape moving, they investigate to determine whether or not it is a food source. If it is not, they resume wandering, but seem to quickly forget about their previous assertion and are drawn together again.
If one or two wander off, others will follow. Watching them for over an hour, I have seen several small groups push together to investigate noises I could not hear from where I am.
Silver Bolt got up and went to his Winchester .30-30, picking it up. He slid it out of his back rifle scabbard and inspected it.
He hadn’t been to the range in a long time, and hadn’t been deer hunting in far longer, but he had always been a good shot.
Watching out the window again, he made his decision. Putting the scabbard down, he took the rifle with him as he ran out to his single-car garage and right up to the roll-up door. He pounded on it with his fists for a full minute, hoping that would be enough.
Silver Bolt hurried out of the garage and to the living room, where reached down and slid the window open. There was a screen, but that would not deflect his bullet or hinder him in any way. He could see the front of the garage from this location, and it appeared his pounding had worked.
Standing in front of his garage door were six of them, split evenly between men and women. As he stared at them, he wondered how so many of his own people had changed; the curse written in the ancient text had suggested that people native to the land would not turn.
They had made so many miscalculations.